She is But The Wind
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: AU. Drabble. Slow burn. A recurrence isn't simply a genetic copy. It runs much deeper than that. Or at least it does for Jupiter Jones. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

Jupiter Jones understood she was someone before.

She understood this at a very early age, barely able to make sense of herself as a sentient being, barely able to understand the concept of self, Jupiter had also had the feeling that this was not was the first time of 'being'.

 _This is new. I am new. But I am not the first._

It wasn't even remembering exactly, not at first.

It wasn't the knowledge of someone before or concrete memories in her mind. It wasn't that _simple_ for her. If she had remembered who she was first, _ **she wouldn't be Jupiter**_. No matter what her mother called her. If she had really remembered, things would have been different. If it had been Jupiter waking up in her new life with all the pieces that had made her up in the first life, life would have made more sense. She would have taken life as a repeat, done things exactly as that first person had, without alternation, without change of values or morals or actions.

It would have made the Verse a simple, clear cut thing to navigate.

But it wasn't that clean.

It wasn't that _easy._

Because being new, meant something. Being new meant _growth and understanding things from a different perspective._ At four-years-old, Jupiter Jones did not remeber who she was _before._ It wasn't that concrete, instead, she had… A simple feeling. Deep in her heart. A certainty that no one would be able to shake even if she spoke of it out loud for them to doubt. Before she barely made memories as Jupiter Jones, Jupiter would catch things in the back of her mind that never connected to her small, small world. She remembered no details, not at first.

Just small things.

A flash of impossible sights in her mind eye, a smell that was fantastical, a sensation that contrasted greatly to what she actually knew. It was like being handed a puzzle without a picture for reference. Only pieces are missing, or _broken_ and no longer fit into the other pieces, and you don't even have an idea of what the image was. Only you understood that there was an image with those few pieces you were given. That was what caused Jupiter to understand that she was _new,_ that there was a before. Vague, far off things that didn't really make sense if you looked at it critically. But they were pieces of a greater puzzle, of a something larger than the small life she had as Jupiter Jones. It was enough for Jupiter to understand that the puzzle pieces given to her meant something and that they were something before she had made her life as Jupiter.

Then she remembered being Taller.

Jupiter remembered looking down at people while now all she can do is look _up and up._ It wasn't just height. It wasn't just the understanding she had been _older._ It was bigger than that. It was _A_ _uthority_ , it had been her _place_ to be Taller.

People were _beneath_ her.

And she remembered _liking_ that. Jupiter remembered the cool glee of watching people scrambled to meet her wants, her demands. The heavy aching feeling of satisfaction as someone scrapped beneath her, trying desperately to get her to like them. Of watching everyone and everything looked _up and up_ at her as she never bothered to look _down and down._ How she never had to even question that authority, nor have anyone question it in turn. Being Taller felt _good,_ was so _easy_ to like, and so easy to want.

Jupiter, she _hated_ it.

It was... She could only describe it as _gross, **disgusting**_ to remember being Taller. Because now Jupiter is not Taller, is not looking _up and up_. She was looking _around_ her, looking next to herself and saw how people lived when they weren't Tall. She watched her mother, her beautiful Mother, Aleska, being looked down at, being seen as _lesser_ because she used her hands and back and sweat to live. And she remembered how she would have never even looked at someone like her mother. And she wanted to sob and ache at that feeling of… Being more than someone else, at remembering being _taller_ and so _stupid to never look down_. Because being Jupiter was enough for her, _more_ than enough. But it lingered the truth that Jupiter was not the first person she had been. She caught more and more moments- _scattered and vague_ \- of who she had been. And she understood that before she was Jupiter, life had been easier. People she remembered, funny looking and not, had treated her well. Had taken her height and authority with a frightful sort of awe that turned her stomach. But she had been unfeeling, she had been cold. She had treated the people who did her every whim and _**want** as worth **nothing**_.

And part of Jupiter Jones wanted to break at the thought of herself being so disconnected to anyone. Part of Jupiter almost broke at remembering being Tall.

Her family, loud and emotional, ** _saved her._**

They have neither the time nor the patience to cater to the whims of a little girl as young as she is… And somehow, she liked it better. She _loved_ it. She liked that she no longer had to look down at people, that she can reach out and grab things as she wanted as she needed instead of everyone handing it to her, all the time. That people, especially her mother can tell her _no._ She knew the person she had been before had never had anyone tell her _no._ She liked it. The temperance of it, the limitations of it. She is not Tall- she is small and it isn't up to her to make decisions. The independence, the _freedom_ and she liked that she is not looked and looked at for every little thing.

She liked reaching with her own two hands. She liked being told _no._ Understanding the need for _no._

She liked who she was now, not who she had been.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	2. Chapter 2

Jupiter Jones knew that the best part of being _new_ is her mother.

Aleska Jones is what made her life as being _new_ much easier. And she did it by being her hero. Her rock as she went through a tremendous change of remembering, truly remembering, of what was before Jupiter Jones. She made the entire fuzziness of being someone new easier. _Better._

Is so, so _warm._

She remembered the coldness. That is another one of the small things she remembered, remembered it so well in comparison to everything else. The before held no warmth, held no heat, only _cold._ And it was cold so deep and true that even just remembering its existence is enough for Jupiter to become a little cold as a result.

Because she felt it sometimes. That cold that came with being... Tall. The frightful isolation of it. Being higher then everyone meant to be so _cold_. Touch had not only been few but discouraged. Had not only been discouraged but seen as _weakness_. To touch was to want others. To want or need others was to be _weak_. And you could not be weak. So to be Tall, Jupiter knew you had to be cold, or risk everything. All she felt in those distant memories is cold. Dazzling colors in her eyes, silken feel beneath her hands… But _cold._ Everything is touched by that.

A separateness from anyone and anything.

Nothing but cold.

Aleska Jones is not a doting mother, does not smother her young daughter with kisses and hugs, does not hold her with suffocating frequency. But… But each touch is firm, so _warm_. Real and something that the person she had been before had never had. She craved it, clung to each touch because it was thawing the cold that crept over her sometimes as she remembered, dispelling it to the point that Jupiter could _breathe_.

"Oh, Jupiter," Aleska is tired. She is always tired.

She worked hard, nearly if not every day. They lived in a small space of charity and family obligation in their families alcazar- _no it's a house-_ and lived secretly and in near poverty.

But Aleska can always hold Jupiter, brought her thin coltish limbs up and close to her, hanging her on her hip. Jupiter held on with ease and practice, curling into the woman's neck. Her perfume is only her lotion that smelled of oats and honey, nearly overpowered by that of the chemicals and cleaning solutions. But it sang _warmth_ to Jupiter. It told her love, it pushed back the cold in her heart.

 _"Mama,"_ she whispered in her mother's native tongue, happy and full, her voice a song and giggle.

Aleska dropped onto their shared bed, curling her calloused fingertips into Jupiter's wild and tangled hair. Gentle and carefully untangling knots. Jupiter leaned into it, humming joyously at the warmth.

At the warmth, she had denied herself in the before. And gorged herself on in the now.

* * *

 **EDIT: 13 November 2019**


	3. Chapter 3

Jupiter Jones drew.

She did this because her head felt so full of things from before.

Her memories of before aren't even big ones. They are still small things, a glimpse of different places: a lagoon that has waters of every color of rainbow rippling and overlapping itself, a violet sky with four moons that looked like earth... The faces of strange people that look straight out of faerie tales her Uncle Vassily tried to scare her with: a man with bronze-colored wings and sharp teeth, a woman with large brown eyes, a black nose and small horns, someone with glittering wings like a dragonfly, a man with an owl-like face... And pretty people that make her gasp in awe and disgust: a tall thin man with blood-red hair who always wore glittering clothing and a cold smile and a woman with cream like skin who wore crazy dresses that defied logic... Small things. So _many_ things that she saw behind her eyes, all disjointed puzzle pieces that grew more and more each day.

She was sacred that her memories of being Jupiter would be swallowed up, and so, Jupiter Jones _drew_.

Because somehow by taking them out of her head, making them physical and away from her, Jupiter Jones felt more like herself. She would draw with her eyes glazed, far off and sparking of foreign colors and strange noises in her ears. Her hand would fly across scraps of paper she found in the house. Any little piece she can get her hands on, small or large sheets, faded receipts or crumpled up newspapers, the back of homework long discarded. She drew with the only crayons that her mother Aleska could afford. Hard, stiff wax that pealed and would break apart on the paper she drew on. It was a box with a different language on the box, and with clumsy cartoon animals that Jupiter had never heard of. But there was a lot of them, forty-eight colors that Jupiter could work with. She didn't dare ask her mother for more, or for something that wouldn't stain her hands. Jupiter would hoard pencils and pens that her family discarded, bent things, loosing either the cap or halfway worn down, with no eraser. She would sharpen the pencils with a small steak knife, careful and with delicate strokes of her hand. And she would carefully wet the tips of the pens with her tongue to make them draw again, or cover them with paper to keep the ink wet. As poor as they were, hoarded up as unwanted people in the only country she has known in this life, she was able to _create_. So, she drew her scraps of memory on scraps of paper.

Jupiter Jones was able to unload her mind in a way that is beautiful and made it easier for her.

The cold places she saw best in her sleep came alive beneath her hands. She realized as she made things alive, that it was something she had often done before. And she knew without a doubt that anything she created would have been on display, open for everyone to see. Open for everyone to be in awe of, to tower over everyone else and show them how good she was at making. At owning the things she made because she _could._

So Jupiter hide the images of before in a large boot box that her mother no longer owned the boots for.

She pushed the box to the very back of the space underneath the bed she shared with her mother. She pulled other boxes they used to store their clothes in front of it and is satisfied she had hoarded her memories to herself. Because they are cold, hard memories. Some are beautiful. But they are cold and hard nonetheless. And she does not need anyone to tell how good she is. She doesn't deserve it. She doesn't want to be made bigger because she remembered these things. She doesn't want these memories to touch anyone and hurt them. She just wanted them out of her head and out of her hands as soon she has finished them. She hoped to keep them forever buried. Since she was mostly in charge of keeping the basement room clean, with her aunt or her mother cleaning the room every other week, she knew she could move the box and keep them away from it...

But her Aunt Nino found them when the box was half-full, who on a whim decided to clean the room completely because of its 'energy'.

As everyone upstairs prepared dinner for over fifteen people, her Aunt cried out for her. Her voice is loud in her exclamation that carried up the stairs easily.

"Jupiter, my little _Leo,_ " she called out loudly, cooing and repeatedly.

Jupiter came downstairs rapidly and stopped on the third step down when she realized with horror what her Aunt held in her arms.

Aunt Nino hovered happily over the realistic, creative renditions.

And Jupiter knew what Nino saw- not what Jupiter saw, horror and cold and ugliness beneath- but the fantastical and grand. The vivid colors done in those waxy crayons, in pencils and smudges and delicate hashed ball-point pen. They are more than beautiful, they are _inspired,_ to Nino, Jupiter knew they must be wonderful.

Jupiter frowned. She looked at her memory box in her Aunt's hands, frowned deeper at the delight she found in Nino's slightly aged face. _Those were not meant to seen. They were just for me._

"This is beautiful. Wonderful. Such an imagination-"

"They're mine, Nino," she ran to grab the box, yanking them back and holding it tightly in her chest. Tears fell, she does not _want_ her family to touch the cold places of before, freeze, and _hurt,_ "Only mine. Don't _look_ at them. They're _ugly_."

Her aunt frowned, brows smashing together as she looked at Jupiter. She watched her cry, holding the box in furious fear. But Nino also understood in that sage if crazy way of her's. That something hurt Jupiter in having others look down at these scraps of paper. She soothed down her tears, agreed not to touch the box without Jupiter's permission. As Jupiter hide the box again, her Aunt Nino made a decision.

Soon it is not scrapped paper. It's not cheap crayons. Its beautiful and soft paper made for it, its paints and pens and everything she could want to make her former world beneath her hands. They aren't even a cheap grade-school art kit. It's an expensive one kit, meant for someone much older than her, meant for someone who was _serious_ about creation. It is made of a handsome brief-case of dark wood with a carved Jupiter on one side, and it has an array of fine pencils, paints, brushes, charcoals, and pastels. Specialed ordered, and the paper was purchased from an Art Store in the better part of town. It's meant as a belated birthday and early Christmas gift from her Aunt.

She trembled when her Aunt gave her the brief-case of supplies, along with the large packet of cream sheets, having saved up for _months_ gift her this.

Nino, at her distress of such a gift, only kissed her forehead and gently asked for her to put them around the basement, to pin them up and show them to at least her and her mother, "You can make them better, more wonderful like this, _little Leo_. I will not see your talent go to waste!"

 ** _"NO,"_** Jupiter said in response, horrified and hurt at her Aunt pushing her to display what she remembered.

 _I cannot let it hurt them._

But Nino's eyes are brown and calm, warm and understanding at Jupiter's refusal to share. So Jupiter refused the gift and the thought of allowing her aunt and mother took look at the things in her mind. It is only later, in the quiet dark as she looked over at her Aunt Nino's bed and the soft cries she tried desperately to suppress, that Jupiter realized how much her rejection had hurt her Aunt. It is in the aftermath and the realization that her Aunt could not return the gift to know how much she had done for her. Aunt had wanted to help her express herself. How much she wanted Jupiter to _share_ herself. She might not know that there was someone before Jupiter, but Nino wants Jupiter to share herself nonetheless...

She also came to the conclusion that on paper, the cold places cannot really touch her family.

They are only scraps of _before_.

They are not _now._

Nino is ecstatic when she realized Jupiter has stolen back the gift and placed her first memory on the wall with little thumbtacks. The scene is an ocean, cold and blue, luminous creatures that are delicate and translucent. It is beautiful, one of her more gentle things. One of the few that are not as cold. More neutral.

Nino beamed and praised her, and it is not odd to see any of her relatives coming to examine her memories.

Her mother, Aleska, does not comment much on it. Only kisses her hair for each little piece that goes on the walls.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	4. Chapter 4

Jupiter Jones breathed, deeply.

A gentle wind caressed her face, soft and barely felt across sensitive new skin. It flowed through her dark hair, caused the thinnest and finest strands to dance in the breeze. It played across her warm skin in a comforting way. It was not cold, as so many of her memories are. But cool across her, a welcome relief from the sweat that was hot and sticky on her. Her breath came in harsh pants of excretion, shuddering across chapped and dehydrated lips. Her arms so small and weak, tremble from her effort.

Above her, the sky is dark and stars twinkled weakly against the light pollution caused by Chicago.

"Jupiter, must you risk your neck!?"

Jupiter sighed at the justified reprimand from her mother, her own eyes still skyward. The sky at night, even here in the middle of the suburbs shined down on her, those thousand _billions_ of stars weak but brilliant against the velvet dark. But in the suburbs, those thousand, _millions_ are lost despite the fact that she knows they are there. Only the strongest are bright and visible, only the strongest shine against the noise and dulled lights of Chicago. She knew in that velvet dark is where she had been _before_ , the distant and nebulous colors and experiences she can't quite remember, the cold. She had realized it soon after she had remembered being Tall- she had been Tall amongst the stars. One of the brightest amongst that velvet dark.

But on Earth... She is warm and _away_ from the stars.

"The sky is full of miracles," she whispered, softly, a thousand images behind her eyelids, keeping her awake so late at night.

 _But it also full of monsters._

She can only guess she may have been one of them.

Her mother, climbing to the roof to drag her idiotic child out of danger, nearly fell off the roof in the wake of that quiet whisper. Aleska managed to steady herself but looked at Maximillion's daughter with blinking eyes that nearly fall to tears.

Jupiter tells herself she is no longer a monster. Swore it to herself. But something inside howled and wondered.

"Yes," Aleska whispered softly, unknowingly centering Jupiter's swirling thoughts as she reached for her. Bringing her baby to her lap, closing her in warmth and bringing her to Earth again as she pressed her face into her hair, "It is full of miracles."

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 May 2020**


	5. Chapter 5

Jupiter Jones laughed into _life._

With a breathless sort of abandon, Jupiter laughed into the vibrant green grass and the brilliance of the wildflowers, a scatter of color and haphazardous arrangement. Jupiter surrounded herself in _life,_ relished as it perfumed her pure white dress, as it touched her skin. The sun brilliant and wonderful, full and warm on her on a balmy summer day, lying down in the open field with no care.

She enjoyed it as the person she was before couldn't.

She felt it on her skin, warm and true. Life and brilliant colors of flowers. She was extra careful not to crush, to not **_destroy_**. She only settled herself in it. She simply revealed and soaked it in in reverence and understanding of it being precious.


	6. Chapter 6

The cold seeped over Jupiter Jones sometimes.

It happened suddenly without her mean. Just in small moments when something came over her. When the memories of being Tall and someone other than Jupiter became too much. It became too easy to understand and too easy to fall into being _cold_. The cold of indifference was incredibly _easy_ to Jupiter. The cold from being up high and above when she had been someone else was like stepping into a favorite pair of shoes. The fit was perfect, and they were incredibly easy to walk in. And she felt stratification with how it looked.

It would be simple to become what she once was, as faint and far away of what that had been was to her.

She thought things, almost like a second voice in her head, that told her how easy it would be for things that get in her way to go _away,_ and she thought it would be so easy to make them go away. That it could almost be _fun._ It scared her, sometimes, how numb she can feel against the world, how sometimes she looked at people and saw them as not worthy. _How I can make them smaller and smaller than me. And it would be so simple, to crush them beneath me and get to be Tall again._ It made her sick to her stomach, made her push down tears and grit her teeth. Made her want to scream at how much she was a monster to herself.

Jupiter was usually able to ignore it, that dark and cold part of her that hide somewhere inside her, deep and buried. But it came out aspects of who she was _before._

It, she was sure, was completely unsettling in a child. She thought her mother saw it sometimes, saw it in her small child looking at the world with cold eyes and with ideas to grind it beneath her heel. Saw that her daughter had been a monster before. And that being a monster was so frightfully easy for her to become again. And that Jupiter could be that again if she just closed her eyes and let it happen.

But Aleska was love and warmth… And she mostly saw only Jupiter. Was able to ignore the strangeness that came over her, and cared only for who she was _now,_ not _before._ When Jupiter felt the cold, Aleska always brought her back. Always centered her and allowed that cold to creep back into Jupiter's mind, back into the corner of her soul more closely tied to _before._

Aleska fought the cold, fought _before_ by being a shining guide, a frightfully strong source of comfort and love that she had lacked _before_.

And Jupiter loved her all the more for it.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	7. Chapter 7

Jupiter Jones's eyes are caught by a sparkle of glass.

It caught the light of the star that Earth orbits- _the sun, ninety-three billion miles away, yellow star, not giant, mid-life, **life-giving**_ \- a glint of light that cast colorful shadows across the sidewalk. It is early morning and one of Chicago's many parks was holding a farmer's market. It was held every other Sunday, one of the few places her family can find authentic products from their homeland. Despite all she had tried, her mother, Aleska's favorite tea was only sold at a booth run by a little old lady. And despite her young age, Aleska trusts Jupiter even if she wanders away. She knows Jupiter will not wander far, will not fly away errantly as Aleksa haggles for a bright yellow bolt of fabric. Her Aunt was a fair seamstress, and would often make the majority of their simple clothing.

Jupiter herself had been looking for the old woman with the tea because it was Aleka's favorite and she always wished for her mother to have it. The light caught her eyes, and with curiosity, she turned her head. In her mind, she sees a myriad of things- shinning babbles that have a life of their own. Glittering fabrics that were encrusted with jewels of every color. Crowns with whirling mechanical pieces. Floating orbs that adorned your very body as if you were the center of gravity, a star amongst the night.

What she sees is not any of that. Nothing like what she _knows_ is possible. If she were to say it with the memories of Before, it is a crudeness of the fair that catches her eyes. It was a peddler's space, lined with necklaces and rings. All across the tattered blanket that had seen better days. But the wares, as simple as they are, are lovingly polished. Carefully crafted. The fact they are _not_ like the things in her memory is what made Jupiter inch closer, look at what is before her. Rough cut crystals and hand made glass, rougher settings engraved with swirls and knots. They are entirely _terrestrial,_ entirely Earthbound. And they are **_beautiful_** because of it. Jupiter looked, looked and looked at the earthly things in front of her, and despite her dislike of the memories in her head, something about the glittering mass in front of her soothes her all the same.

It is a ring that catches her eye, it's setting a marble of beautiful swirling colors, reds, yellows, orange, and whites, with a soft rose band.

"Jupiter. The Planet of thousand hurricanes, lasting hundreds of years," says the man, sagely, smiling. He squats on the blanket of his wares, his grin is yellow and gnarled. But before him are delicate wares of spun glass, bracelets and necklaces, shinning in the sunlight like jewels, "You like it?"

Jupiter tries not to flinch at his address, he lifts the ring in calloused hands, working hands that are gnarled with age and dark from the sun. It twinkles in the light, large enough to reflect shadows across the sidewalk that hold its colors. She nods. She is ever wary of strangers, _people always want to hurt you._ But she did not want to make him uneasy, she makes people so uneasy, so easily. She is just too still a child, but she remembers the _before_ in which control had been essential in everyday life. She always fights such urge to be controlled, tries to act _normal,_ but finds it too hard to do so sometimes. It settles around her like a cloak, like _armor. Automatic,_ unintentional.

 _Perfect._

"A pretty thing for a pretty girl. Why don't you get your mom, kiddo, I bet she would buy it for you. Or your da-"

"Why planets?" she asked, curious.

The man blinked, at her clear speech, at her serious expression, eyes light, one a vivid green and the other a clear brown, staring straight into his own. Her voice is high a bit soft, and her words are not slurred. She has practiced again and again to make her voice perfect and without fault.

"Planets are beautiful."

 _Storms, orange and swirling… Red winds and impossibly tall halls of gleaming black halls of glass and jewels… A factory of death and life?_ Jupiter shakes her head.

"Sometimes they can be terrifying."

"Do you think Jupiter is scary?"

"I think it can be."

 _I think I can be. If I really let myself._

"Why?"

"Those hurricanes are so strong that they make the ones on Earth appear like a gentle breeze. They would destroy most crafts in a second. And it's so far away from the sun, it would be so cold."

 _It was one of the coldest places on this side of the Verse._

The man smiled, nodding his head sagely.

"Ah. A little astronomer, I see. Yes, it's a dangerous place, the planet, but can you deny that it is beautiful? What is wrong with a beautiful, dangerous thing?"

Jupiter does not answer, she just frowned as the man grinned at her.

"Jupiter!"

Her mother comes, clicking her tongue, sharply. She gripped her hand tightly, not hurtful, but firm.

"Jupiter I told you again and again-"

The man blinked. His smile blooms like a flower to the sun. Wide, guileless and bemused.

"Your name is Jupiter?"

She nodded, sharply feeling her cheeks flush with heat. His grin widens. His teeth are wide and yellow, stained with coffee and years.

"Then have it."

Calloused hands close around her small, empty one, placing the jeweled Jupiter ring into her hands. It is warm from the sun, and a lump settled in her throat.

"I-"

"You have that little Jupiter, you have that and remember that things can be beautiful. Not just scary or dangerous. But both."

Aleska gives the man a strained smile, thanks him and drags her away. It doesn't fit- meant for an adult hand- but she wears it on a chain, every day.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	8. Chapter 8

Jupiter discovers that she can bring life into her grey room that serves as her Alcazar- _home. Alzazars are bigger… Larger. Colder and with so many empty rooms and empty spaces._

It comes from Vladdie's science project, growing a bean in cotton balls, wet with water. She watches it wither and die, and feels… Such a sadness. Because that was a budding of soft life that had come from hands clumsily and unknowing of how wonderful it had been. It echoes in her heart, it resonates in perfect pitch that such a was something Jupiter had seen again and again in the _before._

But with that death comes a realization.

Her first step is finding an empty bowl, with a large hairline fracture and one her Cousin Vassily's wife had discarded. She takes it and fills it with dark and rich soil, and takes the leftover beans from Vladdie's projects and wet cotton balls. It takes weeks, but life _sprouts._ Carefully and mindful of the fact that life is a delicate balance, she feeds it, waters it, speaks to it, gives it sunlight. She even gives worms to recycle the nitrogen, smiling as she watches the small creatures wiggle about. The plant is joined by wild things she finds, filling other bowls, discarded metal tins, anything she that Vassily's family can spare and soon the small and tall windowsills are filled with green and splotches of the color of wildflowers.

Then the floors are lined with chipped pots, lush seeds gifted to her by a gleeful Vassily, hoping she will supply food for the family to lessen the many expenses.

Jupiter is all too grateful for the chance to _create_ life…

She feels that _before_ when she had been a monster she had been much better suited at taking it away.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	9. Chapter 9

Aleska is tired.

She thinks perhaps she is always tired. Some level of exhaustion is always in her heart, in her very bones.

She thinks sometimes it is done with the knowledge that all her education, all of her effort in Russia was erased the second she boarded the boat with no one but Nino at her side and Jupiter in her womb. It had been something she knew was going to occur- smuggling herself out of the Soviet Union(former now) with no documents, no standing or hope for anything beyond a clean state- for nothing polluted with the memory of Maximilian. Vassily had given her asylum, a job. A shit job, one that turned her once soft hands to rough, calloused things, that made her always smell of bleach and sharp chemicals. But a job nonetheless, and a small space to live in with Nino and her daughter.

It was the best they could do, and America held _nothing_ of her husband, just as she knew it would.

"Mama?" a soft voice, and there was her precious daughter, a mug of tea in hand. Steaming, held firmly in her hands. She extended it, offering gently.

 _Jupiter was an odd child… She was so quiet_ , thought Aleska as she took the tea. It was warm and honeyed on her tongue, with a hint of lemon. Sweet and sour, just the perfect amount, with a hint of bitterness from the slightly over-brewed tea. Just as Aleska liked it.

"Thank you, Jupiter," she said, softly.

Jupiter smiled. It was subdued, the girl had been dismayed when she had begun to lose her teeth, and refused to bare her teeth at all. _Not until I am perfect again, Mama._ She was vain in that respect, careful of her hair, careful of the set of her little shoulders, of the way she moved her small legs. Always wished to wear pretty things, and was fastidious of the state of her clothing. She was so _clean,_ unlike most children. Their Cousin Vassily had made a note of it, _loudly,_ at dinner about how Vladdie, at that age had been a slob and a proper hellion child. Jupiter had only wrinkled her small nose in distaste as she looked at the ten-year-old Vladdie, who at the time had been dripping soup down his shirt.

But there were moments, precious moments when Jupiter… Would let herself go. Seemingly forgetting about appearances at all and would do something childlike; throwing herself into a bed of flowers, climb to the highest point of a tree, climb to their roof to look at the stars, dig her hands into the earth, making careful pots of greenery to dot the basement room they shared, cover herself in paint or chalk for the sake if her fantastical drawings… Just precious moments were Jupiter lost her air of solemnity. Nino said it was a mark of an old soul, lingering knowledge of a past life. Or perhaps a result of the tragedy that befell her father, a lingering sorrow that Nino thought had manifested that horrible night, made permanence in her aura.

Aleska just thought Jupiter was just more aware than most children. Knew their situation better then most should at her young age. And she was smarter. The child of an astrophysicist and a mathematician. She picked up things so quickly...

"You are very welcome," she said primly, accent American and clear.

Aleska feels her lips twitch. She drains the cup quickly, relishing how it warms her.

"You are very kind, my Jupiter," says Aleska as she finishes the tea.

Jupiter frowns.

"Do you really think so?" her voice is small.

Aleska blinks, notes the true distress in her child by the set of her shoulders, how they curve inward. How her lips twitch just so, downwards before they smooth out in a neutral face. Her little girl, never wanting to seem upset. Not to Aleska. Did not want to be a burden. Her serious little one.

"Yes. Do you not always try? To be kind?"

That twitch again.

"Is it enough to try?"

Aleska knows that Jupiter is much smarter than most children.

"No. But it is a sign of a person with a good heart. Do you understand?"

Jupiter's fine dark brows tighten, smash together.

"Yes… I think so. I have a good heart. But sometimes it is not enough to be good. I must be kind to show my good heart."

 _From the mouth of babes._

"Exactly. You must try. With more trying, the more you succeed."

Jupiter nods. And Aleska brings her small child to her chest, setting the empty cup to the side. She curls around her daughter's frame, together they fall into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	10. Chapter 10

Jupiter remembers death at the tender age of four and a half.

It is her firm first memory of Seraphi Abrasax. More than just feelings and vague scraps, but true and vivid _memory_.

She is next to her mother, heading towards a cleaning job, going up the stairs. It is in the middle of climbing these stairs that it flashes in her mind, as her mother, Aleska hums some old Russian lullaby that feels so _achingly_ familiar, if not in sound but in a tender tone. Her hand, small and holding her mother's hand large and callous, slips out of that precious hold and she falls back with a quiet gasp.

 _She is humming, gently, as she looks to Earth, beautiful Earth, such a small, glorious planet. She had begun its Seeding long ago and had dismissed it. But now she realizes how… Gorgeous it is. How blue and wonderful its ocean, how vivid and remarkable the turn of evolution had become in such a place. It makes her ache, ache in ways she forgot she could ache. She forgot the beauty, forgotten how… Wonderful it was to relish such a thing. Not glittering clouds of jewels or things so shallow. But this… **Life** that she has made, with her hands, carefully made and cultivated to her exact specifications. It had been long ago when she had to do such a thing with her Harvesting planets, she had people to do that. And it was not until she had been looking through her holdings had she rediscovered Earth and fallen in love._

 _And found something upon its soil so much more precious._

" _Mother?"_

 _She turns. Balem is there again, he comes so frequently, as he had never had. Oh, he doted on her,_ _ **loved**_ _her as none of her other children did, but he had always been so independent. His frequency is due to worry, no doubt. He has grown ever worried, ever agitated with her these two hundred years past. Shifting uneasily in his twinkling mass of white fabric, beautiful jewels sewn across his lithe body. She wonders why her stomach turns at his youthful face, at the unwrinkled flesh adorned with freckles… He had just Bathed than, in the waters of life, in Nectar without abandon. Recently._

 _She blinks, something deep in her throat thick, her eyes feeling suspiciously close to tears. The splice a, lycantant, there on some business or another from the Legion over the increased threats to her life over her recent policies, shifts uneasily at her turn of emotion…_

 _Sensitive creature._

" _My son," she says, her voice is hoarse, hoarse with age._

 _Balem flinches at the noise, nose wrinkling with disgust before he turns to the splice messenger, and dismissing him with a flick of his long fingers. The splice doesn't move, looking to her. She smiles at the poor thing, walking forward uneasily with arthritic limbs. She does not think her smile gives much comfort- she is all teeth and cold promise._

" _Leave splice," hisses her son, disdain, and anger coloring his fair face._

 _Seraphi smiles again. It is not kind. It is sharp. She thinks, in the wake of his concern, that her son has seemed to have forgotten who is_ _ **Queen.**_

" _He is at my disposal, Balem. He only leaves at my command. Do you presume to take it?"_

 _Her son turns red a harsher, darker, red in rage and what she thinks is shame. Or perhaps indignation at being scolded like a child._

" _Forgive me, my Queen," he says and he bows as he should have when he enters the room. Low and subservient, her perfect prince, "I had forgotten myself."_

 _His neck flushes with embarrassment and rage. She relishes, allows herself to savor the control for a full minute before she turns to the uneasy splice._

" _SkyJacker," she says, calmly, ignoring her still bowing son, "Leave my son and I in private, if you please."_

" _Your majesty," he bows, respectfully._

 _Seraphi is amused, as he leaves the room, silent, those bronze wings glistening in the pale light. She turns to Balem, and signals with fingers just as dismissive for him to come up from his bow. Balem does so with little grace, her prince's red brows furrowed._

" _What is a Skyjacker doing around you, Mother?" his voice is filled with a slight rage that amuses her._

" _A concern of the Aegis, I am sure over my security. Something about those that call me outrageous or another."_

 _Her voice is calm. But her heart is heavy. Her alternatives to Harvest should be enough. Have to be_ _ **enough,**_ _but everyone is fighting her, even her own family. The research, though promising, is not allowed to be more than that… Research. Not to mention the alternatives- Balem huffs._

" _They are calling you a radical. If not senile."_

 _She purses her lips. She supposes after nearly ninety-one millennium she can own the title._

" _Do you think the same?"_

 _Pale hands, delicate and smooth grasp hers. They are a stark contrast to the wrinkle, curved hands she owns._

" _Mother. Surely you can see that you are not well. You haven't Bathed in… In years."_

 _The thought of that liquid, beautiful and glowing with life is so tempting. Had been since she had stopped two-hundred years ago. But it makes her shudder in disgust._

" _I am fine. As soon as my research is passed I will use the alternative- Be the first to lead the way, Balem! Make so much-"_

" _You can not stop using the Harvests as they are," says Balem, harshly, those pale hands on her's tightening, almost hurtfully, "Why mess with a perfect system? You will weaken our stance in the market and make us appear_ _ **weak.**_ _You risk your life with such foolishness-"_

 _Something snaps. Something breaks in Seraphi in that moment._

" _I HATE MY LIFE!" and her scream is true, so damn true that it breaks something in her further because she is so_ _ **tired.**_

 _Everything is hazy after that. Her son reaches out, screaming at her. They struggle, they scream and cry. And they beg. There is so much begging on his part. Then she begs. Because she is… Tired. Nearly ninety-one millennium weigh down on her so much._

 _What has allowed her life is_ _ **killing**_ _her._

" _JUST KILL ME, JUST KILL ME BALEM!"_

 _And he does. Her neck is broken and no RegenX is on hand at her orders within her Alcazar. She thinks Balem might have brought some, but her perfect heir just stares at her in horror as she grasped fruitlessly for breath._

" _Mother? Mother?"_

 _Seraphi falls to the dark._

At the bottom of the stairs, her mother crying in horror, Jupiter Jones does as well.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	11. Chapter 11

Jupiter is only four-years-old.

Just a babe at the very start of her life, young and sweet thing that understood so much of their situation, to the point that Aleska feels shame. Because she was intelligent. She had a fair hand and a wonderful mind that looked to the stars as her father had, imagination able to create works of art that had Aleksa breathless. She grew plants with a steady, loving hand and at a rate that astounded Aleksa because their drab little space had transformed into a little Eden, a little sanctuary. Filled with green things of fruit and beauty. And showed Aleska Jones that her daughter had so much brimming potential. Potential that could so easily be wasted in their situation.

 _And now?_ Aleska Jones, wonders _, if perhaps she will **die l** ike her Maximilian did, much too soon and before she could truly enjoy her_.

She has no choice, not a one, but to follow little Jupiter to the hospital, hands wringing. She had sent Nino away, practically thrown her older sister down the stairs herself to make her escape as the authorities had arrived. The police, oh _the hated and feared_ police, stand over her, lips pursed as she trembles in the seat below them a cup of stale hospital coffee in hand. She does not bother to hide tears or her defeated expression. She has no excuse, no reason. Jupiter had only slipped out of her hands, her tiny foot falling back before she had fallen down four flights of stairs. She has head trauma, broken bones, and punctured lungs, and she has no documentation. Aleska has, but outdated documents of the former Soviet Union and near nothing to explain her presence in the country. She had only been able to tell Nino to warn Vassily and to cover anyone else without documentation in his employee, and hope for the best.

Aleska understands at that moment that she is failed, that her hope, her dream of escaping Russia and the memory of Maximilian and giving the babe inside her a new start is next to none. What can she say, what can she do? She is doomed. Her baby and she would be thrown out of the country, back to her father with his disapproval, she would be forced to marry again, possibly give Jupiter to some family that wished for a child. She would lose her little Jupiter…

So she steals her heart and her pride.

"I wish to make a call to the United Nations to Sir Sergi Jones, ambassador of the United Kingdom," her voice does not tremble.

But Aleska does.

* * *

 **Edit: 1 March 2020**


	12. Chapter 12

Ser Sergi Jones is just as Aleska remembers him, with the near five years that have passed adding nothing to his face, to his trim body or at the steel in his eyes.

Those two different colored eyes, the same as her dead husband, the same as her young Jupiter, are much colder in addition to the steel she has always seen. He looks at her, heavier, more beaten down from her days as a college professor, this washerwoman that she has become, the widow of his son, and she thinks she can find hate in his cold eyes. _A hate that has always been present. Just, stronger, stronger and more bitter than when Max and I had been young and innocent and so in love with the thought of getting his approval. A love he threw back and spat in our faces._

He is in a suit, this former ambassador to the Soviet Union, dressed in designer clothing and disdain of her. He had wanted so much more, for Maximilian then an upstart intelligent, _Jewish_ girl of Russia. But they had been in love and uncaring of the consequences, of such things as inheritance and the dreaded, 'disowning' they had made due, together on their salaries. They had made love in ignorance and in their poor apartment and been so _ridiculously happy._ If but for a telescope and the stubbornness of her husband.

But she supposes that in the end, it had not mattered in the least. Maximilian was dead and his daughter was nearly so. And Sergi was the only thing that could help her daughter. Any consequence that came from it, Aleska would bare. Aleska would do it for _their_ child. _I swear it Max, I swear it my love._

"Max? Where is my boy?" his voice, crisp, posh is sharp, and he looks haggard and narrowed eyes.

Aleska lips are dry and bleeding. She licks at them, savoring the pain and the hurt she causes.

"Dead. Years ago. Murdered during a robbery."

Cold eyes close. An echo of her pain.

"Then why call me now?"

She wishes she be cold. She wishes she could freeze up from the inside out, in regards to her _beloved_. That she could live without this hurt.

"Our babe. Our Jupiter. She fell down, several flights of stairs. I will be deported, and I have little money. I know not anyone else in this country," she lies, she will not drag her poor sister Nino, or her cousin with her, "Please, please help her. She is your blood."

The fact that she has no one else to turn to is left unspoken.

Sergi pauses, blinks, rapidly.

She gestures helplessly to the room she had been standing outside. He had, on some miracle, been in America for business, if in New York, close enough that a flight was enough to bring him here at her call to the UN. He follows her inside, hands curling into fists at the sight of her little Jupiter, surrounded by machines so small on the adult bed. She wishes to collapse. To fall and cry and scream and curse the world for taking her _love_ and now her _leo_.

"Jupiter? Max always wanted to call a child that… It was his favorite planet," Sergi's voice is hoarse, "Look at her, she has my nose."

And Aleska dares allow herself to hope.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	13. Chapter 13

Aleska was sitting next to her daughter when Sergi came back a few days after seeing his granddaughter for the first time.

She started to stand on his entrance to the room but stopped when she realized the older man had flowers- a lovely bouquet of yellow and peach roses- more than half a dozen. Aleska frowned.

"Jupiter will be sad to see such a thing," she blurts, as he places the vase on a little table.

Sergi looks at her, furrowing his brow.

"Pardon?"

Aleska fought the urge to fidget before she squared her shoulders. She was not a timid woman. But something about Maxamillion's father always left her feeling small. Perhaps it had been the crushing disappointment in the man's face when Maxamillion had gleefully announce their intent to marry, or the way one who looked like her love could be so cold. Aleska didn't know- and she did not care to examine her feelings too closely. It was not in her nature to be cowed, so all she could do was push them down and move forward.

"The roses. They're lovely. But she is a bit of a nature lover… To see them cut will upset her. She will cry."

Sergi blinked, rapidly.

"Cut flowers upset her?"

She smiles, faintly, reminded of a time where a little boy had presented her fair little Jupiter with some weed flower. The girl had cried in horror at the death of the useless plant.

"She is such a gentle thing," she mused, carefully. Her hands settled over the cast of her small foot, and Aleska tried not to let the sudden tears in her eyes fall, "She would be sad at the plant's death. She has… What is the saying? A green hand. Our small… Home is filled to the brim with her efforts."

Something in Sergi's eyes softens, he takes a seat, sitting down.

"So, I assume she will want to be somewhere out in the country," he mused, his accent precise and crisp, the smallest twitch of his usually stern mouth startling her, "When all this is settled if she has… A green hand."

For the first time since she met him, Sergi had something of an amused smile on his lips, small, barely a twist of his lips, but there nonetheless. Aleska bites her lip.

"You are making plans?" she asked, wary. The possibilities of such plans was always in her mind, and her heart is twisting and galloping with resigned fear.

Sergi lost his smile. He looks at her, those mismatched eyes that her granddaughter and her late husband had shared. They cool, any warmth as he looked over Jupiter is gone as he looks at her.

A thousand words pass in those eyes, a thousand accusations of the man that was missing in the spaces between them.

"Yes. It will take some wiggling, but the fact of the matter when you married Max I made sure my diplomatic immunity was extended to you as you were my son's wife. While the actions that lead you to the United States will have to be explained, in a legal sense, neither you nor Jupiter will be held accountable. I will, of course, pay for my granddaughter's recovery."

Something in Aleska wanted to weep at the confession.

"You did not want me in your family," she accused, "You cut your son off. Said disinheritance. We were attacked without you the wiser-"

"I wanted to teach Max a lesson. He was young. Impulsive and fanciful. Spoiled in no small part by his privilege and his upbringing. He married you only after a few months of knowing you. I wanted my son to _grow up,_ not be murdered by having him make his own way," said the man, his voice rising, "You were one of the first girls to look his way, to find his flim-flam nature charming. How true was love suppose to be for a man of twenty-something years to a woman of the same age? All I knew five years ago was that you disappeared from the country, and no one knew what happened to Max, no body to bury, no sight of my son. How was I supposed to know anything?"

Cool eyes glared. Aleska lifted her chin.

"We did love each other. So much. It was only a year of marriage but it was a lifetime for me…"

Jupiter twitched beneath her hand and Aleska started, looking in panic at the unconscious face of her daughter. Sergi fell silent for a beat as well, before he sighed.

"This is not about past hurts, Aleska," he said softly, and part of Aleska was somewhat stunned to see he knew her name.

"No. This is about Jupiter. And what is best for her in this state-"

"I will care for my granddaughter. I will make sure she grows up with what Max would have been able to give her had we made amends."

Aleska was no fool.

"You will take her. From me. You will take the last I have of Maxamillion."

Cool eyes look at her.

"Look what has happened to her in your care, Aleska. You are young, you may make your life again here in the United States. But as for Jupiter- She will leave with me once she is recovered enough. She is just a young age that she will adjust quickly."

Aleska wanted to scream, wanted to rave- But she had also known this to be a very true possibility for Jupiter once she had called for Sergi. She also knew in a legal sense, she would very much loose to Sergi. However-

"You will be surprised. Jupiter is much more intelligent then you can know. She will hate you."

Sergi blinked but said not another word.

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	14. Chapter 14

_Jupiter floated._

 _In a place in-between. It was strange to describe- It was not space, or a place exactly. Not form or matter. Not color, not black. No up or down, nothing to center her in the endless abyss of just... Somewhere in-between._

 _Across her was herself._

 _Partly at least._

 _She was Taller._

 _And bigger as well, though vexingly not by much. Her hair was dark and just as black, but so long and nearly to her feet. A mass of gleaming strands, that looked so incredibly lush, soft to the touch. Her skin was pale but touched with a hint of olive, flawless and smooth. Her eyes, two different orbs of a pale green and pale brown, sparkled at her, framed by heavy lashes. Her lips, blush and plump were set in a distinct and neutral expression._

" _I did not think to be reborn would be so confusing," mused the who she thinks was who she was_ _ **before**_ _._

" _Did you expect it all?" she asked before Jupiter could even think to censor herself._

 _The_ _ **before**_ _smiles. It is not a nice smile. It is perfect, cool beauty on an ageless face, but there is no life to it. It is perfect and practiced. But leaves no warmth in Jupiter with the sight of it. The only thing she could understand from the woman was the distinct impression of cold and exhaustion. And that is not through her smile, but rather from her very being. Jupiter notes, absently and with pleasure and no small amount of vanity, that she will be beautiful. It is a matter-of-fact observation. And the one who she was **before** is what she will be when she is older a curious thing that she had not thought possible._

" _No. No, I did not. Not like this at least. Perhaps a genetic copy of myself in the cosmos, but not like this," her voice is tired, almost dull. But lovely to listen to._

 _There is grace and beauty to everything Seraphi Abraxas does._ _Jupiter frowns. She is not grace and beauty. She is not perfect. And though she may try to emulate that **before** she understood why she so desperately needed to do so, she understands with clarity Seraphi Abraxas isn't what she has ever wanted to be._

" _I don't **want** to be you. I am **not** you," she tells the **before** , firmly, confidently, near definitely at the very thought._

 _Seraphi blinks._

" _I do not think that is the purpose of your existence Jupiter. To be me is not what you are. No. I suppose it would have been much easier if it had been so."_

" _I am. But not. You are_ _ **before.**_ _I am_ _ **now.**_ _"_

 _Seraphi nods, a small but firm dip of her head. Wistifullness is clear to Jupiter, the sadness in her eyes is not as clear, but Jupiter can read it in the person she had been **before.**_

" _You are. But not. I am dead, Jupiter. But you are not. You are **new** , I am old and gone. We are not the same person, but rather the same soul and that is a distinction that you seem to understand."_

" _I will be better then what I was. What you are."_

 _Seraphi sighs. It is music and the gentlest requiem of her regret._

" _I suppose that is your purpose- To be better."_

" _Is that why I remember what it was like to be you? And how you ended?"_

 _Seraphi gives a strangely crooked grin. It is the only expression that she has given that looks unpracticed and strangely_ _ **alive**_ _because of it._

" _Who knows? We could just be crazy for all we know."_

 _Jupiter cannot help but giggle at her wry tone. She returns the smile, a mirror in her childlike face. There in Seraphi she can see something. Not perfection, not beauty, but something lovely all the same. Jupiter sees it, in that unperfect smile, the core of who she had been. Someone with a good heart, deeply buried, who had not acted with kindness in all of the years and years she had lived. Had not been allowed too...Or had simply forgotten about the heart that had beat in her chest. Jupiter thinks that is what ultimately killed Seraphi, more than Balem's rage or confusion, but her own destruction of her heart. The weight of it had beaten Seraphi down unknowingly until she had been an empty husk grasping at the need for a redemption she had been too exhausted to fulfill._

" _I don't think we are."_

" _Neither do I."_

 _Silence falls between them. Seraphi hums, gently, a tone that feels so familiar to Jupiter._

" _The Verse is a dangerous place," Seraphi says, simply, "You must correct my sins, Jupiter, to be better."_

" _They are stains on my soul," Jupiter whispers. It is a fact, "You put them there. But only I can wash them away."_

 _Seraphi nods again._

" _Yes. I am so sorry that you must make up for what I have done. It is not fair for my Recurrence to fix a system well into place before my own birth and because I was too much of a coward to do it as_ _ **me.**_ _But what is done is done. I am_ _ **before.**_ _You are the_ _ **now.**_ _"_

 _Jupiter nods, slowly. Seraphi sighs again, expression fierce and urgent._

" _Be gentle as I could not, be wise as I was not, but be as fierce. I had a saying, a mantra that I wished to follow but never seem to be able._ _ **I am but the wind.**_ _It means to be invisible but present, to be gentle or destructive. To pass like a whisper or a roar."_

" _I am but the wind," said Jupiter. She nods again, carefully._

 _The words seem to vibrate within her, strong but gentle._ _ **A truth.**_

 _Seraphi gave that crooked smile._

" _Yes. Be but the wind. But for the sake of us Jupiter, also remember to have_ _ **fun**_ _."_

 _Jupiter laughs, and Seraphi is a deeper and fuller echo._

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	15. Chapter 15

Jupiter wakes to pain.

It is all over her, vivid and unlike anything she has ever felt. The worst thing she had ever experienced is a scraped knee in this life- and she still doesn't remember true memories of her time as Seraphi to know whether or not she had suffered like this before. All that escapes her is a low moan as her eyes flutter open. A moan muffled and strangled out of her small throat. She registers, with faint panic, the fact that something is down her throat, some sort of tube. She is stuck in the arm with a thick needle, and over her face is something that covers her from chin to well over her the bridge of her nose. All she can smell is plastic and the faint note of something foul and possibly rotten. She whimpers, while another part of her is stunned by how _primitive_ everything is.

Things that are stuck in her, invasive and harmful... That this pain is something she has to endure for so long because she is on a Terristal Harvesting Planet. _I am a Terristal live stock-_ She pushes that thought down viciously, ignoring the rapid sound of squealing machines and the panicked gallop of her heart. _An Abrasaxs never panics. Or if they do, they do not show it._

The voice is pure Seraphi in her mind. A cool echo of her past self.

That calms Jupiter completely. The knowledge of experiences so vast and within her soul. Some part of her settles eases beyond the panic and horror of her physical state… At peace with the understanding of what her… Talk with her past self had brought. _Or was it just connecting with my past self within my own soul?_ She had not realized the struggle she had been under with the understanding of being Seraphi in the back of her mind. How much she had pushed against it in denial and dislike. She is only four-years-old, but the conflict of then versus the present, the fear of it, was gone.

 _I am now. She was the then. Seraphi Abrasax is dead. But Jupiter Jones isn't. I am new. I was her, but… I'm not anymore. Her life, all of it, is not mine. I can never be Seraphi, not really. I may remember her, feel her hurts, but they will never be mine. We share a soul. Sins even. But my experience will never be her's. The course of my life is mine to make._

She didn't remember all of her previous self, or her life, not really. Only the last few moments of it. _Oh by the Verse the_ _ **pain**_ _of a broken neck._ It didn't compare to the pain she was in now- Jupiter had no frame of reference to such pain. The memory of her broken neck was foreign and slightly removed- _same soul, different body._ But it was a pain she remembered nonetheless. _Ninety-one thousand years linger in my soul._

"Jupiter?" a voice, soft, accented and clumsily pronunciation and all made something seize up in Jupiter.

"Mama," her voice is garbled, hindered by the _Verse damned_ tube down her throat, but the small whimper of sound was enough for Aleska, for her mother to come to her.

Calloused hands, smoothing her hair back, a warm, thick voice whispering pleas of love and faint prayers to God for protecting her.

 _Seraphi never had someone like my mother._ The thought is sudden, but she knows it is true. From the interaction that she had seen of Seraphi's own son, Balem with her, Seraphi's world of… _Entitles_ was cold and removed and so _lonely_ that she could not think that Seraphi had had a family before she had had her son… _Eldest? She remembered him being the eldest. Cold and molded upon Seraphi's lap, convening, temperamental and clinging, always striving to please her,_ _ **Balem.**_ Sparks of memories. Flashes across her eyes as her mother calls for a nurse. _A woman, painted beautifully and full, smiling serenely and ignoring pleas, looking away, always looking away if something was too ugly to suit her, manipulative, the heart of an artist,_ _ **Kalique**_ _._ _A young man-child dressed in an elaborate suit, screaming at the top of his lungs for the color did not suit him,_ _willful and sly and frighteningly ill-thinking,_ _ **Titus**_ _._

"It will be okay, darling, Mama will make everything better," whispers her mother, carefully, pressing a delicate kiss on her hairline, so soft it was barely felt as if she was afraid to hurt her.

Jupiter feels tears in her eyes come before she can even register that the new pain in her chest is not from her apparent injuries. _And she is the reason why Seraphi's memories, however, more will come to me again, will not overcome me… Because I will overcome_ _ **them**_ _._

 _I am but the_ _ **wind**_ _._

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	16. Chapter 16

Jupiter hears the healers- no the _nurses-_ speaking, quietly, as they check on her, to each other, in the dead of night.

She has trouble sleeping, most nights because despite the primitive medicine so popular here on Earth that completely takes over her system and dulls her mind to stupidity. But even with the medicine, the dreams of her past life are more vivid, more and more then the faint glimpse she had seen before of the Verse. She thinks that her near-death experience has reconnected her more firmly to the Before... She sees snapshots of Seraphi's life, and its the richness of those memories that startle her awake. She tastes strange things on her tongue, vivid and stark, sweetness, bitterness and something hot and stirring that she feels she does not properly understand it. She feels something smooth, against her skin, textures of woven things so delicate they feel as if they are air, and she sees people and places, beautifully adorned. Beautifully arranged with jewels and silks and lovely things she cannot remember the name for. And sometimes she sees them, the three lives Seraphi had bore, and loved as much as she was able, and knows it had not been enough for either parent nor child.

But at the same time, it has also put a barrier between them and her, given her armor against the coldness that has been brought. Given her context and reason to understand that all of those years and years that Seraphi had lived, would only serve to help her understand the Verse she had been reborn into.

She was Jupiter Jones, Recurrence of Seraphi Abrasax, and she was going to take the system her previous counter-part hadn't been strong enough to dismantle and take it apart, _piece by piece._

"The Ambassador is pulling so many strings," mummers one nurse, voice soft and solemn, and her attention is captured, away from the plans that are swirling in her head, "To insist on having two nurses check on her."

She had long been pretending to sleep, because not sleeping makes the nurse's up the doses of the medicines, and she barely flinches as someone touches her IV, checking carefully that the needle has not shifted in her arm.

"I heard a rumor that this kid is his," said the second nurse, slightly louder, less considerate of her patient.

 _My dad is dead... Ambassador must be my paternal **grandfather.**_ The thought is far off and strange to think. Her father's side of the family was a mystery, her father himself gone before Jupiter had even come into the world. _The reason Nino said why my aura is so serious._ Her mother's side, the family is loud and boisterous, speaking rapid-fire Russian. Its cousins and uncles and aunts. It together and centering and a reminder of the people she has to protect. The man that was her grandfather on her mother's side had been oppressing, wanted nothing to do with the child born from his youngest daughter from a dead man. The single mother who had lost her husband was useless to him. A nice man would marry her if she gave up her infant. A good man from the right religion, a right man who would provide for her. Her mother's position at the university had been lost, her income had been dwindling, and there had been a pain in her heart for the husband she had buried much too soon.

Her mother and Nino had left such a place when their Cousin had offered a way out, and Jupiter had been born in the house of Leo with the planet Jupiter 23 degrees ascendant in the middle of their trans-Atlantic journey.

Her oldest, and saddest bedtime story. There was hardly a mention of the man that had been her father's father.

"Oh no, the Ambassador is actually her grandad. He just found out, apparently," continued one of the nurses, confirming Jupiter's musings.

"Really? That explains why he's paying for everything. And also why he hasn't visited her since she woke up, only sent potted plants."

"I heard from Gina it was because the girl started to cry when she saw the cut flowers."

"Speaking of crying, the mom seemed to upset the other day, just before the kid woke up... I heard from Gina that she was bawling in the bathroom."

"I was working day shift that day. I overheard what they were talking about," said the first nurse, voice soft.

"Well?" asked the second nurse, impatient and eager for gossip.

"The Ambassador wants to retire and take the girl to England… Without her mom."

Something, something dark and so cold overcomes Jupiter at that moment.

"Well, fuck. Poor kid."

"Don't swear, Jodi, she may be asleep, but you have to practice good habits."

"Yeah, yeah."

They leave.

But Jupiter's mind whirls, as she opens her eyes.

 _How dare he. How dare he take what I need from me. How_ _ **dare he.**_

* * *

 **EDIT: 1 March 2020**


	17. Chapter 17

"You're a bad man," she says it, sharp. It is an odd thing to hear from a child, sharpness, command as it were.

The man, Sergi Jones, her grandfather, blinks. Just a little, enough for Jupiter to understand that he is startled by her tone. She thinks if Aleska was in the room, she would be surprised as well. It is not a tone she relishes to use, for it is _authority and cold,_ an echo of what Seraphi would have used in her everyday speech. Jupiter uses that as a tool, as a way to make the people who would control her life as they saw fit. _An Abrasax never acts in anger, only demands as due._ It was something she thinks, Seraphi had tried her damnedest to instill in her children, but had never quite succeeded. Seraphi had never been one to lose her temper. She was cold to the extreme, had been arctic steady and dripped herself in the beauty of an even temperament, born out of calculation. Seraphi had never acted in anger. She had only ever acted in revenge, cold and orchestrated to perfection.

Jupiter, herself, is too true to the people who birthed her in this life. Her anger burns vivid and potent, and she already knows she will not fall down the path that her predecessor had walked.

She was better than that.

"Jupiter-"

"You want to take me away from Mama. Mama loves me."

Few things had loved Seraphi. _Truly loved her._ Aleska loves Jupiter. Loves her enough to give her up if it meant saving her. She knows not if Sergi Jones loves her enough to wish to protect her from all harm, or if she is an object of revenge to the poor girl that had stolen his son away.

"Jupiter. You have to understand. I only want what's best for you-"

"Mama came to America to make a better life for me… To escape the death of your son. Her husband."

He flinches.

"You cannot stay here. I will raise you right."

She is reminded, briefly, a splash of memory of Seraphi, that she had such a person, some business partner or another, who had said the same words, taken little Seraphi from… Jupiter cannot quite remember. It's too far away. Too distant in her memories. But perhaps it had been a little spark of warmth that Seraphi had never regained.

"I… I can't be without her. Please. Grandfather," she almost bows in supplication, but Seraphi had never bowed… And Jupiter did not want to either.

Hands warm and old, but so incredibly young rest on her injured leg.

"I promise I will not take your mother from you, Jupiter."

Jupiter blinks, eyes watering. If she had truly been Seraphi, she would have never let them fall. She would have relished victory and been pleased with the fact that such a man was able to bend to her will by a few choice words. But she isn't, not anymore. She is new. She is better. So they fall like stars, blazing down the arc of her skin, her tears and she feels hope lift her young heart of perhaps one more person loving her.


	18. Chapter 18

Jupiter Jones understood so much.

Well, Jupiter was honest enough to herself in fact that she did not know a few important things. She did not know how long it had been since her first life- It could be a mere four years since her birth at the lowest estimation. That, was, of course, if the moment her brain ceased to function, whatever energy that consisted of her consciousness, her soul as the people of this planet put it, her soul was tossed into her mother's womb immediately afterward. At the very largest estimation, hundreds of years could have come and gone since she had stopped being Seraphi.

But Jupiter understood the fact that she was reincarnation and with it came consequences of acting very differently than most four-year-olds. And it was an unsettling thing to see in a child.

"Jupiter," called her mother and her voice was relieved and soft and warm, "Good morning."

"Good Morning, Mama."

Next to her is the man that had threatened Jupiter's happiness and her key to her sense of self, Sergi Jones. She understands that he is attempting to make amends. That he is simply trying to do what is best for her. She knows this. But she cannot help but feel uneasy with him. He had almost taken her Mother from her. And from his hesitant expression, she knows he can detect that unease.

In her primitive hospital bed, she feels less than presentable. Her hair is a wild tangle and the nurse had yet to come in help her brush her teeth. Never mind the various bulky casts and the paper-thin hospital gown allotted to her. Her grandfather, Sergi Jones, is dressed very well according to Earth fashion, pressed suit and neat hair, and it makes Jupiter feel even more like a little urchin. She frowns, lips pressed tightly as he follows behind her mother.

"Good morning, Jupiter," says Sergi Jones, his accent is prim, British and it contrasts against her mother's harsher Russian accent.

"Good morning, Mister Ambassador," she replies formal and distant. Her American accent makes her another contrast and it pleases her.

His expression tightens, disappointment as she had not called him grandfather since she had begged to stay with her mother. But Jupiter needs the distance, cannot associate this man quite yet with being family, as much as she thinks her Aunt and Uncle and cousins.

"How do you fare?" he asks, dismissing her distance.

"I feel okay. A little tired, but not anything major… I can walk to the bathroom as long as a nurse is present."

"This is good, Jupiter. You are getting better quickly, yes?"

She gives her mother a close-lipped smile because her teeth have yet to grow in completely.

"I believe so..."

"Jupiter, your hair- Let me brush it. I know how you must hate it. And have you yet to brush your teeth little one?"

She beams at her mother, still closed lips, nodding eagerly. To the side, Sergi Jones, silent and watching sees what he would have torn apart.

The part of Jupiter, the one that is the closest to her last life, enjoys the way that it upsets him. That part of her is whispering, _"Know what you would have_ _ **ruined**_ _, and know I would have never forgiven you for it."_ But mostly Jupiter sees the longing in his expression, sees the real affection in his pale green and brown eyes. Eyes they shared.

"Mister Ambassador. I never did properly thank you for the potted roses. They are beautiful."

Sergi Jones gives her a smile, strangely timid for a man of his stature.

"I'm glad you liked them, poppet."

* * *

 **EDIT: 3 March 2020**


	19. Chapter 19

"Somewhere in the country?" Pale eyes, so much like his son, one green one brown, stare at him. Sergi Jones swallows thickly, but he gives his granddaughter, _granddaughter,_ a smile. It's hard to say why he is so nervous. It could be the nature of suddenly having a family again. It could be because he nearly lost that family with his idiocy, and had only managed to save himself from that with a child's accusing eyes promising indifference if not _hate_ for his selfish actions.

Either way, he hopes his smile, as ridiculously timid as it is, is seen sincerely.

Because Jupiter Jones is a suspicious child. And her actions still indicate that she does not trust him- _not yet._ Not after that disastrous first impression. And though he could not change the first impression he has given her, he is trying his damndest to improve her opinion of him in general. He wants _family,_ he wished to meet his son in the afterlife with his head held high and hoping for forgiveness for his past actions. Jupiter, and Aleska are the key to that, and though he is unsure how to speak to Aleska, in Jupiter, he thinks he can make a good relationship if he puts in the effort.

Not to mention, there is just something about little Jupiter Jones that makes his heartache.

There is something… In her eyes. Something in the way she holds her head that is strangely captivating. He knows not if it's the bias of understanding his son had not left this earth without a legacy, or it's just something innate in his granddaughter. Because she is injured and rendered smaller, but she seems... To shine. Shine with poise and grace in every one of her careful movements. Something about Jupiter awes him...

"Yes," he tells her, enthusiastically, "A small lot of land near Chicago, with enough room for a good-sized garden, or a greenhouse if you prefer it. I think it will do us good to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for all of us. I know… I know you do not desire to come to England. I thought this a wonderful compromise, space for all of us to know each other properly."

Jupiter frowns slightly before she looks to her mother. Aleska, beautiful as she had been five years ago despite the years of hardship, gives her daughter an encouraging nod. She even smiles, and Sergi sees what had enchanted his son, and feels a little better for it. It is difficult, to say the least, not to blame Aleska for the senseless death of his son... But she had lost her husband, just as he had lost a son. Mistakes had been made on all sides, and while he cannot help the past, he can try his best for the future that is to come. Especially for the small, serious child, Aleska had risked everything for. That Sergi was giving up everything for.

 _No more duty before my family. I lost my son, I will not lose my granddaughter for the same folly._

"... A garden?" her voice is soft, a gentle thing. And there. Past her shield of seriousness and poise... Sergi sees it, the gentle soul, a soft girl who had grown up too quickly.

"Yes, poppet. A lovely garden for you to grow, all on your own. As soon as you have recovered enough, we will, of course, have a physical therapist for your recovery come by to our home… Your mother and I have discussed it, now it's for you to decide if-"

"It sounds wonderful."

* * *

 **EDIT: 3 March 2020**


	20. Chapter 20

Aleska watched as Jupiter made a careful step.

The bright yellow of her socks made a contrast to the white tile floor, and her little arms trembled with effort as she held herself up alongside the banister of the physical therapy room. Jupiter's slightly olive-toned skin, having grown paler in the lack of sun from her stint in the hospital room, glistened with sweat. Her small lips were pressed into a straight line, firm and her unyielding her eyes were narrowed. It was the look of focus that struck Aleska the most. She always knew her child was a serious thing, such an intelligent child. But she had never seen such focus on her face. Jupiter had taken to physical therapy with a steadiness that had surprised Sergi, having expected the four-year-old to be resistant to work, to something so physically straining.

But as she had done for most of her young life, Jupiter had defied expectations. She had taken one look at the prescribed regime to heal her body to functional again after so much physical harm and asked with the calmness that the nurse claimed she never saw in her adult patients:

" _Is this the most I can do? Or is this just the least strenuous way for me to recover the use of my limbs?"_

Of course, after some review, the regime had indeed been increased, and Jupiter had followed instructions without fail, without complaint. Her arm casts had been removed yesterday, and ribs had recovered two weeks before that. She had recovered most of her motor functions in her hands and would require minimum therapy on that front. Thankfully she had received no nerve damage due to her head injury. A miracle, her Doctors had said. Jupiter had simply ignored the raving, and kept at her physical therapy, determined: " _To be perfect by my next birthday._ " The solemn declaration had been met with humored glances, but Jupiter had been adamant of never missing her therapy sessions. She was well on her way to fulfilling her promise.

 _You could rule the world if you set your mind to it, wouldn't you little one?_

The thought was off-handed, but as Jupiter made her way, steadily, her physical therapist hovering behind her, hovering behind her, ready to catch her at the last minute, Aleska thought that it was completely possible for her daughter to achieve such a thing. Jupiter seemed not to notice or paid the man little attention, at least until she reached the end of the bar, allowed him to ease her to sit on the ground. She turned to him and gave him a faint, closed-lipped smile that was soft and true.

"Thank you, Mister Scott," she said warmly, chest heaving slightly.

"You did great, Jupes," said the large man, grinning at her. He pressed a careful hand on her head, arranging the strands of hair that had fallen out of her detailed braid.

Like most people, her physical therapist had come to appreciate her child, warmed by her careful consideration of the people. Jupiter was so devastatingly kind, despite her odd seriousness, and ever since her accident, her kindness had only increased. There was a lightness in her eyes, ease from the pain that Aleska had never noticed her daughter had held within her. Aleska suspects it's from their old status as illegal immigrants, and the danger that Aleska had placed on both their heads in fleeing to America. Or perhaps the burden of poverty that had been over their heads. Either way, something was no longer in the depths of her eyes… Something dark and uneasy had been removed.

And Aleska was _so_ glad.

* * *

 **EDIT: 3 March 2020**


	21. Chapter 21

"She works hard," Sergi's voice is deep and soft, and Aleska only jumps slightly, looking over to her father-in-law.

In his hands he held a present, carefully wrapped in black, silver and glossy paper, studded with glittery stars. A belated celebratory gift for Jupiter no doubt, for the removal of the casts on her arms. She knew with a faint certainty that Sergi would try to spoil Jupiter- And Jupiter would not allow it. Despite her appreciation of pretty clothes, Jupiter was always reluctant to accept any luxury. Aleska hoped her daughter would never lose her humility but would learn to accept some things that would make her life easier.

"Yes," she mummers, conscious of her rough accent. Even after four years in America, and her year with Max, she never lost her accent. It was a great contrast to the crisp, sophisticated accent that her father-in-law spoke in, "Jupiter is determined to heal by her birthday… She is eager for the start of our new life."

Sergi, still looking at Jupiter through the glass meant for the kin of the injured and recovering, gave a smile that painfully reminded Aleska of Max.

"The crew is almost finished with the restorations. Turn of the century home with a new green-house, eager for any plants she would be pleased with."

"She will insist on growing vegetables and fruits- she enjoys giving us the fruit of her labor."

Sergi gave a slight sigh, wistful.

"I look forward to that."

"Are there any close schools?" She asked, ever the scholar.

Though her daughter was young, it had already been something that had haunted Aleska. Her self determination to keep her daughter safe from the authorities had Aleska with the vague plans to home-school the girl. _How_ had been unknown, with her occupation as a maid, Aleska had feared her little Jupiter would have to take her lessons between toilet scrubbing and vacuuming. But with Sergi, Aleska was both glad and ashamed that Jupiter would get the finest education.

"With her physical therapy being so long term… And her relative intelligence, I thought perhaps a tutor or… Or we could take her education between the two of us," the offer was meant as an olive branch.

Aleska wondered what Max would have done. Would he have been glad of the effort of his father? Or would he have spat in the offer's face, as part of Aleska wanted too?

 _No. Max was many things, but vengeful was not one of them. He was_ _ **good**_ _and kind- fanciful and a fool- but good. He would have forgiven you, Sergi… And I wish to do as he would have wished._

"Perhaps a tutor for the areas we lack, " she compromised with a slight smile, "I was a Teacher of Mathematics and have little merit in the Humanities."

Sergi returned the smile.

"Well. I was a good hat at languages and literature before my turn in Politics. The Arts, Sciences- We will have to outsource."

Aleska's mind turned.

"Some physical activity?"

"Once her injuries are mended enough."

"Are you not worried for her social education?" Aleska fretted, "So far out in the country and with our education she will have little interaction with children her age. She is already so solemn a child…"

"Let us focus her primary education with us. Jupiter is a mature child and to me has shown little inclination to interacting with those her age. Perhaps schedule trips to social areas?" Said Sergi, a thoughtful look on his face.

Aleska nods, reluctantly.

"Very well. Are there any close neighbors?"

"An Apiary farm is our closest neighbor actually, the man sold us the property in fact. He said over the phone that his home is nestled in the middle of his property, two miles I believe, away from our new home. We are a good twenty miles away from the nearest town."

Aleska, thinking of the cramped circumstances of her previous homes, the constant treading of toes and being in other's spaces, wondered if the thought of so much space. So much isolation away from people.

It sounded like Heaven.

"Thank you," she told him, honestly, "For this place."

Sergi's hands tightened over Jupiter's wrapped gift.

"I only want for my- _our_ family to be right, Aleska. My pride and Max's stubbornness has torn us apart… And hurt both you and Jupiter."

The inclusion of herself surprised Aleska and eased some of the anger that had long stayed rooted in her heart.

"I believe it has hurt us all, Sergi," she looked to her daughter, still struggling, still _striving_ to heal her body. It gave Aleska, hope, and pride, but it also reminded her of why they were mending this bridge, "But all wounds heal. And we have our Jupiter to think of."

"I am sorry for being a stubborn, stupid old man and for being disgustingly prejudiced."

" _THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY FOR AN UPSTART, RUSSIAN JEWISH GIRL WITH NOTHING TO HER NAME!"_

"I am sorry for letting my anger destroy a relationship between Max and I and you."

" _YOU ROT IN A HOLE, YOU IDIOTIC, STUBBORN OLD MAN. YOU TAKE YOUR PREJUDICE AND CHOKE ON IT!"_

"We have made our bed, Aleska. Max choose you. _Loved_ you and made that girl there."

" _Father… I'm sorry. I_ _ **love**_ _Aleska. Be damn your thoughts on her religion, her origin- I will_ _ **love this beautiful woman until my last breath.**_ _When you get your bloody_ _ **head**_ _out of your arse, perhaps we can speak like adults. I love you, Father._ _ **"**_

 _ **"**_ _Get_ _ **out**_ _. Never darken my doorway again. You'll get not a cent out of me. Not for this_ _ **whim**_ _, not for the rest of your life."_

"How happy, Max would be. To see us like this."

 _"The sky is full of miracles," said the man, half-frozen, eyes different and wonderous, shimmering with emotions._

Aleska smiled, softly, _so is the Earth, my love._

* * *

 **AN:**

 **The author apologizes for the delay in this chapter. I struggled with some aspects of it, like the structure. This me trying to give further context to what happened between Aleska, Sergi, and Max. I always thought that was something very powerful in the story that was lost in the final product of the film. Which I adore, flaws and all. It is an immensely fun sandbox to play in, and I hope my foray into it entertains everyone!**

 **If anyone among you keeps an eye on my other stories, you may notice that I've been doing a massive overhaul of all my fanfictions, which is why there has been a delay of updates, more so than usual across all my stories. _She is But The Wind_ is included in that, and there has been some editing done to all the previous chapters. Most of it has been minor because this fic is relatively new, but some grammatical errors have been addressed, dialogue/awk. sentences have been changed, and some additional sentences in description or dialogue have been added. It hasn't changed the story overall, but feel free to look over the previous chapters. Lots of love, and thank you for the reviews, keep this fandom going my friends!**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**


	22. Chapter 22

The Keeper is staring, in question, in careful caution, crawling on all fours in a deceivingly awkward scuttle.

The Keeper crawls closer, giving a sweet chitter. The words make her pause, as they are just incomprehensible sounds.

 _I don't have a universal translator._ The annoyance irritates her, and she wonders why the Keeper is not trying to speak with it. Maybe it doesn't want to alarm her?

"I don't understand, Grey," she tells it simply. She uses a name she has heard her older cousin use to refer to the Earth's interpretation of Keeper sightings.

Something in the image of round heads and those dark eyes had always felt familiar to Jupiter. Now with one in front of her, she knows why. Seraphi's memories are not ever-present, strange, disconnected without context sometimes, scattered and across new neural pathways that somehow have ninety thousand, six hundred and ninety-one years of memories hidden the farthest reaches of her young mind.

A scent here, a gleam of color, odd things trigger her memories.

The sight of the Keeper crawling into her room and things that are connected to the Keepers fly across her mind.

Memories in Jupiter's head remind her how quick the Keepers of a Harvest planet can be. They may be thin to the point of skeletal, but their long limbs are ideal for jumping, and they can adhere to vertical surfaces. She takes a breath, ever conscious of how she can't run, and the fact that on its hip belt, along with various tools it would need for its trade, the standard device for memory erasure is present. The Keeper, curious, tilts its head. She knows if she makes a fuss, the creature will use the thing on its hip. The fact that it hasn't already, makes something cold travel up Jupiter's spine.

Standard protocol is to never erase human children 70 years before a Harvest- _the stock is delicate in its brain chemistry. Only major events may be the exception for the sake of population control. This gives me a frame of reference for when Seraphi died. The Earth was two hundred years away from Harvest. Its been at least a hundred and thirty years. Or, at the other extreme this is another Harvest with the stock already close… No. It can't be. This planet was made to prefection by Seraphi... No one would put the same care as Seraphi did._

The Keeper freezes at the sound of her voice. Jupiter keeps her face pleasant, with a little unashamed curiosity. The small creature tilts its head and takes out a sheeve. Presses against its screen quickly. Jupiter frowns as the Keeper crawls to her arm, its other hand reaching for one of the many devices on its hip. Dark, large and bulbous eyes look at her in faint curiosity. At her lack of reaction or her obvious tension, Jupiter doesn't know. She sighs, slightly, before she gives the Keeper a reassuring smile.

"I won't tell," she tells it seriously, "But you need to check something with me, don't you?"

The Keeper stares at her, before chittering something. Frowning, the Keeper than gives a clumsily nod. _So it does have a universal translator, but it won't talk… How queer._ With a quickness, the Keeper reached for another device on its hip.

It's slightly changed, sleekier, slimmer and glossier than in the memories but Jupiter can recognize the DNA reader. The Keeper reaches forward with its three-fingered hand towards her IV free arm, humming in question.

 _No child is ever scanned for a Recurrence. Only their DNA is kept on file until the age of maturity. The only exception is come Harvest time._ The fact is in her mind, that her DNA will be on file for future testing if the old ways still adhere too... Something in her chest that is startling close to panic. _I am four standard years by the correct time on Orous. The technical day of majority or old enough to claim any inheritance would be when I turn 12 years old. I have exactly eight years on Earth to assemble what I need to claim what was left to me in Serahphi's will. Earth, the crown jewel, the whole solar system, and a few planetary bodies scattered across the known universe... **T**_ _ **he Jupiter Refinery.**_ If there is something she knows will hold, it is the fact that the Verse is slow to decide to change and slow to implicate said change. She had a set deadline to maneuver things on a terrestrial planet until anyone would be alerted to her exsitance.

 _Balem, Kalique, Titus._

The names of Seraphi's children are seared into her heart. They _will_ come for her. What that meant, Jupiter couldn't possibly know. Balem murdered her in her first life and Jupiter knew that would have tortured him beyond reason. _Into madness or a state of despair that Seraphi had not cared to think about. He had loved her more than she had loved him._ Kalique had turned her back on what Seraphi had wanted in the end. _The woman who revealed in the beauty and wanted to paint the Verse itself to prefection... No matter the consequences. She just wanted beauty no matter the bones it would be carved from._ Titus was vain and self-absorbed and wanted more responsibilities. _He wanted and wanted and wanted to be more than either sibling, falling short of Balem's astuteness and Kalique's gorgeousity._ Seraphi had denied them to all, had treated her children horribly. All three of those members of her House would have scores to settle… And that was even if they had no knowledge of the fact that Jupiter remembered her past life.

If they knew they would worship her or tare into her for all the slights that Seraphi had done to them.

She sighed again. She knew this was not a Harvest by the almost lazy manner the Keeper pressed its cool, dry skin against her free arm. Jupiter Jones holds her head high, and smiles as the DNA reader chimes softly, a noise indication that Jupiter Jones' DNA was now in the system.

 _And so my countdown begins._

"Thank you for being so efficient at your job," she told the Keeper.

Technically, they were Balem's until her DNA registered itself as a Reccurance in eight years' time. But they were by right Jupiter's, and she would _not_ repeat Seraphi's inhuman treatment of them… The Keeper tilted its head, and chittered softly, gently, almost in comfort. It clumsily patted her hand. It couldn't smile, but there was something warm in its eyes.

"My cousin told me about you, you're an alien, right?" she asked it, unnecessary.

The Keeper tilted its head, again, before it gave another clumsy nod.

"My name is Jupiter," she told them, softly, "Do you have a name?"

It gave a shrug.

"You can't speak to me? 'Cause you can understand me. I know you can."

The Keeper looked over its shoulder. Then they looked back at Jupiter. Jupiter nodded, slowly.

"You're not allowed?"

It gave an eager nod.

"But I can talk to you?"

Another nod. Jupiter stared at the Keeper.

"Will you be my friend, then, Grey? If you want me to talk to you?"

It chittered again. Patted her hand again.

 _How horrible it must feel to be a Keeper… Taking care of sentient beings for centuries only to see them ripped away? And forced to start the cycle again and again?_

Jupiter smiled in their direction. _You are my responsibility… I will take care of you._

"Come visit me, then," she told the Keeper, newly dubbed Grey, "I'm in the hospital for a couple more months. So I'll be here."

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Cough. Well. This is an alternate universe. I have to give a reasonable time-line when things are going down, and why Jupes hasn't been snatched up by the Verse at large. Things are in motion my friends: I already have Jupiter moving next to a Bee Farm. Her having a Keeper Buddy was always the plan, good eye on that one review that asked why she hadn't been flagged down for having Seraphi's DNA. Here is my reasoning, most Reccurances would be caught as babies in really 'developed' worlds. With how Bueratic Humanity was in the movie, I felt that them having age restrictions however arbitrary they are, would be natural. I choose 12 because it gives Jupiter time, it's just before she's physically an adult so that means the Abbraxs would underestimate her... And I want to give her time on Earth before she's launched to space.**

 **AND before anyone says that the Keepers were just villains... I always thought that was boring. Their sentient too. They technically work for Balem in the film. They were just following orders. There has to be more to them. This me giving them more.**


	23. Chapter 23

The leg casts were removed, the whirl of the small saw was faintly terrifying. Part of Jupiter was struck by the very primitive nature of it. In Seraphi's memories, medicine was near magical to her. Broken bones were mended within seconds of the break. Cuts and bruises were erased with a simple spray. And nerve damage could be reversed within a machine that set new nerves like a loom amongst your body. Injuries, illnesses that plague the Earth was nothing to the Verse.

And that was if you didn't count RegeneX.

Nectar was a way to set back the clock, Baths coded to protection would be calibrated to exact portions to suit your genetic code to the exact age and state of health you preferred; It was the last resort to anyone who couldn't afford it, it could mend any illness, any injury. _Which was the majority of the population of people._ Regrow limbs. Reverse nerve damage. It was a miracle cure for everything and anything in the Verse.

And the House of Abbraxs had the single largest monopoly on quantity, and on _quality_. Their RegenX was second to none, their business ruthless and perfectly helmed by Seraphi in life to leave House Abbraxs' status as gods amongst the gods that the real Humanity thought themselves as. Seraphi had preferred to be physically twenty-five, when she had bathed, thought moments of whimsy would overtake her and have her play with being younger or older, for the majority of her very long life, she would don twenty-five like a favorite dress.

Until Seraphi had felt the guilty of her thousand upon thousands of years crawl across her heart. Seep into the very recesses of her soul and weigh her down with all the lives that had been carelessly used to keep her living and breathing.

" _I HATE MY LIFE!"_

Jupiter shudders lightly as the Nurse smiles sweetly to her, brushing off the dust of the plaster with her gloved hand.

"Almost done sweetheart, one more to go and you'll be free!"

"Thank you, Nurse Maria."

Maria cups her cheek, quickly, before lifting the saw again and starting at the edge of Jupiter's cast. To the side, her Mother, Aleska, is gripping her hand, gently, as Maria makes a smooth line up her last cast. Though she is wearing a mask, just like Jupiter, Jupiter can see that she is giving her a smile, by the way, her eyes shine with reassurance.

 _While I prefer some of the medicine that I can use… I am glad I have not been reborn into a non-terrestrial world. If I had been rich enough, I would have just simply been tossed into a RengenX bath without consent in the state I had been._

Jupiter had enough sins staining her soul because of Seraphi.

She would not add to it in this life, she would rather die.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **...**

 **These daily updates are not gonna be a thing, guys. I've just really been motivated to write about this.**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**


	24. Chapter 24

Grey the Keeper was back.

It took a second for Jupiter Jones to realize it. Because they were disguised as one of the Nurses on rotation, Andy, and the cloaking technology was nearly flawless. It was only when she looked out of the corner of her eyes Grey fiddled absently with her IV that she realized that Andy was not Andy. Their eyes flickered that dark color, as if Andy's entire eye, from iris to the whites had turned a smokey black.

 _I thought Nurse Andy was a little early today._

She jumped, paranoia wondering if the finding of a Recurrence had changed after Seraphi's life until the disguised creature gave her a smile, warm and full.

Than they chittered in that language of Keepers, softly, giving Jupiter a wink. Jupiter let out a soft laugh.

"Grey?" She asked, eyes wide.

The imaging cloaking technology had come a long way since Seraphi's death. But like its predecessors, the technology failed in key parts. Projection over the eyes had always been difficult in being kept stable. The user had to be able to see, and earlier attempts at the technology had been incapable of maintaining the illusion and the sight of the user.

Grey looked over their shoulder. And turned back to Jupiter with another warm smile on Andy's face.

"Nice to see you again, well, nice for you to visit me. I'm not actually seeing _you,_ " she smiled herself, reaching carefully to grip its hand.

It was a contradiction of sight and sensation. Her eyes told her that Andy's large and dark hand was gripping her's delicately. But she felt the padded texture of Grey's three-fingered hand, bigger than Andy's hand, the skin dry and cooler then what was a normal human temperature, the skinny digits lacing through the space between her own fingers, long enough to nearly reach her elbow. The only thing that broke the illusion was the lightest indent in her arm where Grey's fingertips pressed into.

Jupiter giggled.

"That's weird."

Grey laughed with Andy's voice. Jupiter wrinkled her nose.

"You don't have to hide your real voice."

Grey blinked with Andy's face, brows furrowing. They shook their head, a bemused smile on their face. He pointed to the clock, with the hand that wasn't holding her's.

"I know it's daytime," She told them primly, straightening in her bed, "But Mama and the Ambassador aren't due till my therapy session before lunch. The real Nurse Andy only checks on me every hour unless I call for him. He isn't due for another forty-five minutes."

Grey the Keeper let out a sigh. It released her hand with a small squeeze, moving quickly, too fast for a normal human, ducking his head out of the room for a fraction of a second, before closing the door and then they dropped the illusion.

Dark eyes shined and looked down at her warmly.

"Much better. I don't like you hiding."

The Keeper gave a shrug. They scurried over, curling into a surprisingly compact position at the foot of her hospital bed. They stared at her, head tilted to the side. Deliberately, it chripped at her, unaltered. Jupiter tilted her own head, watching curiously as he fiddled with his tool belt to take out a small, circular device. It looked like a mirror compact, sleek and glossy in a functional metal looking material. It gestured at the item.

Jupiter was both surprised, and curious to realize she had no idea what the device was.

 _Good to know Seraphi didn't know everything there is to the Verse._

She reached for the device and blinked when it began to changed colors. From the industrial gray metal, paling drastically to a glimmering white. It suddenly looked like mother of pearl, shimmering through the rainbow as she tilted it side to side. Grey mimicked pressing a button as Jupiter looked back at them. Still trusting, Jupiter pressed the slightly softer material at the top.

A soft melody began to play. Sweet, but strong. Jupiter felt herself smile. Grey nodded their big head, before reaching out to grasp the music box. Slowly, the place where they touched darkened to the cool metallic grey. The song shifted as well, adding deeper, hard notes to the slow tempo. Jupiter gasped in awe and understanding.

"It changes melody depending on the user's DNA!" She breathed to Grey, grinning.

The Keeper nodded, still cradling to the music box in between their two hands. They listened for a moment, content to sit and just absorbed the song.

It was Jupiter who broke the silence as Grey sighed and pressed the button at the top, and pulling it back to rest it on their tool belt; "Do you do this a lot, collect recordings of different people?"

The Keeper nodded, eyes crinkling in their version of a smile.

 _That's not protocol,_ thought Jupiter, beaming. _And this is why it's a good thing that I remember Seraphi as far away as I do. I know things that will help me live in the Verse… But I also know by being_ _ **me**_ _that everyone is a soul. She would have never known such a thing to be possible in Keepers._

"Can we listen to more?"

Grey cooed, but shook their head, pointing to the clock. They jumped off the bed, and they were Nurse Andy again.

"Can you show me next time?"

The Keeper frowned with Andy's face.

"Only if you can," she is quick to reassure, "I don't want to get you in trouble."

Grey the Keeper smiled with Andy's face, and with a wave and a sweet chirp, ducked out of the room.


	25. Chapter 25

The Keeper, L-7013 as it was assigned, understood that live-stock was not _truly_ sentient.

Oh, they, of course, were made of human DNA, but they were _not_ Entitles. They were not the same. They were not capable of the same intelligence, the same _life_ as the Builders of the Verse. They were lesser. The leavings. They needed centuries upon centuries of development to reach a semblance of genetic relevance. They were what gave life, but they were not alive.

That was what the Entitles proclaimed, and as a Keeper, L-0182 knew that what the Entitles proclaimed, was _truth._

But at the same moment, L-0182 found that all of the live-stock… All of it was different.

Singular.

And that was were their fascination lay. The difference between each and every member of the animals in its care.

"Grey!" bright, soft eyes of different colors. Unique. Singular.

The youngling was getting better at finding L-0182, spotting them amongst the staff of inadequate terrestrial-healers with near a hundred percent accuracy. To reassure their latest favorite, L-0182 looked over their shoulder, repeated action to remind them who L-0182 were and that their time together would be brief. Despite their better judgment, L-0182 dropped its Cloak and earned itself a brighter smile. The youngling, Jupiter, so named for the planet so close, was smiling, in that queer way of her's. She always smiled closed lips, no matter how elated. A restriction she placed upon herself for her missing bones in her mouth. It was a sign of beauty to have all those bones, neat and orderly and white, and L-0182 had long learned that the youngling was vain.

"It's nice for you to visit," she said, brightly, patting the invitingly the mattress of her bed.

Dutifully, as was L-0182's habit, they placed themselves at the foot of it.

" _I am only stopping to see the progress of your injuries, youngling,_ " without the Universal Translator implant, the youngling had no knowledge of its words. It was a technicality that L-0182 often abused, to speak to livestock was strictly forbidden, but one wasn't really _speaking if the other party did not understand._

A useful loophole, a barrier between disciplinary action. The Keeper knew its designation as L-0182 was tenuous. If they followed the rules, they would have a letter and a number, they would _live,_ and care for the Balem Abbraxus' holding. Otherwise, they would be Cycled, turned to Regen-X designated for other Keepers.

"Can we listen to your music box?" she pleaded, nearly bouncing in her bed. With the passing weeks, she had grown stronger from her horrific injuries, and more energetic. It was endearing- _fascinating_ to see.

" _Not today. Hold still._ "

As if she understood, Jupiter held still as they lifted the compact scanner. L-0182 tried not to think about the fact that they had stolen the device from their superior, but the concern- _curiosity_ of what had truly happened to the youngling had compelled them to do so. The Terrestial machines were just not accurate enough, too crude and prone to disgustingly erroneous. A quick scan told them that Jupiter was relatively healthy, if in a state of repair from what she had explained was a fall down several flights of stairs.

A breath L-0182 had been holding, unconsciously, fled from their pours. _She will be fine._ Jupiter's different hued eyes stared, brows furrowed. If she hadn't been, L-0182 had no idea what they would have done.

"That's not something that you usually have," she said simply, leaning forward. She placed her hand on the joint between their hand and arm. Concern was plain on her pretty face.

L-0182 flipped its hand on its circular jointed, chirping wordlessly in reassurance. They squeezed her warmer arm gently, very aware of its enormous strength in comparison to the Terrestrial.

" _That is not your concern, Youngling,_ " than with a casual flip, they hide the scanner and replaced the Cloak they had dropped.

L-0182 moved to leave, giving Jupiter another sweet, wordless chirp of reassurance.

"Please be careful," the words were whispered, said solemnly, and something in L-0182's chest squeezed.

 _The Youngling was live-stock_ , they reminded themselves sternly as they left, _only live-stock._ Jupiter wasn't even in their regularly assigned district. The Youngling was a temporary favorite, just as the others were. _Nina, with her warm brown eyes and long silver hair, George with his large nose and grinning gape. Little Henry and Ana, with their tiny black curls and sweetly giggling mouths. And so many others since I was granted a letter and a number._


End file.
